The forest took her, small and thin. A shadow lost in bark and skin. No name was whispered on the breeze. Just echoes tangled in the trees.

She came with nothing heart and bone, Abandoned, unloved, alone. No cradle rocked, no mother wept, Just silence where the promise slept.

Her ribs became a counting game, Each one a noich of gref and shame. She leamed to read the wolf’s cold stare. To steal from foxes, sleep on air.

The rain would stitch har dress with moss. The frost would teach her pain and loss. She drank from brooks that sang in tongues. And fed on berries, raw and young.

Yet hunger carved her not to dust. But into something fierce and just She spoke with owts, she danced with fire. Her limbs grew wild, her gaze grew dire.

A girl no more the forest’s kin. With thorns for crowns and strength within. She thrived where others came to die. A question scrawled across the sky.

So if you hear leaves sigh her name. Know not all flowers bloom the same Some rise from dark, from rootless ground The lost are not so easily found.